


Stuck

by taralynden



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peacewish wondered what would happen if Ratchet and Wheeljack ended up stuck together. Crack-fic, that's what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: major wince alert at some of the details...

"All done?" Wheeljack asked, approaching from behind.

Ratchet started to turn from Teletran's control board where he had spent the last shift, then smiled as his lover pressed up against him, wrapping arms around his waist.

"Taking lessons from Jazz, now?" he asked, thinking of how often the sneaky saboteur had enticed his own partner from the command centre starting with similar moves.

"Seems to work for him." Wheeljack shrugged. "At least I didn't do it with an audience."

Ratchet's mood soured slightly. The reason there was no audience was the same as the reason that he had been stuck in here for the past six tedious hours: a battle. He and Wheeljack were the only ones left here. Well, them and the Dinobots and Omega Supreme, but it amounted to the same thing.

"Heard anything?" Wheeljack asked, hugging him tighter and rocking slightly in apology for bringing up their situation.

"They're on their way back. No major injuries. First Aid's sent me the initial reports, and it's not much more than a few dents. It's going to take them a couple of days to drive back, though. Skyfire's got a crack in one of his turbines and they don't have the parts out there to fix it. Prime's carrying him back."

"Wow, that _is_ going to take awhile." Wheeljack mused. Then chuckled wickedly. "However are we gonna fill the time, eh?"

Ratchet chuckled and began to twist in the inventor's arms to give him the beginning of his answer, but found he could not move. Wheeljack's embrace was too tight.

"Primus below, Jack, loosen up will you?"

"What?" Wheeljack asked blankly.

"Let _go_ of me!" Ratchet demanded, pushing at Wheeljack's hands.

"I... uh, I can't..."

"What do you mean you _can't_ you glitch?" Ratchet grumbled, then hesitated and repeated his words more slowly as the implications set in. "What do you _mean_ , you can't?"

"I'm kinda stuck."

Ignoring the fear bubbling up in him, Ratchet jumped straight to anger.

"I can _see_ that. What have you done? What have you been working on?"

"... _oh_."

Ratchet growled.

"What. Have. You. Done?"

"I..."

"Hurry up!"

"I-was-working-on-that-new-adhesive-you-wanted-for -making-patch-plating-stick-to-the-patient-but-not -to-the-medic-and-I-had-an-idea-of-using-personal- nanites-but-it-didn't-seem-to-stick-to-anything-at -all-so-I-thought-it-didn't-work." Wheeljack babbled.

"Well it's stuck to something _now_ , isn't it? Me! Why?"

"Um, well it's interesting isn't it...?"

"No, Jack, it's not interesting, it's a problem. Why?"

He tried to twist his head far enough to see Wheeljack's face but failed, only able to make out the edge of one of his luminary panels.

"Well, uh, this is only a guess, but I think maybe it's because my nanites are tuned to yours. I mean, there's pretty good evidence that the longer couples are together and the more they _are_ together, the more aligned they are and..."

"Jack?" Ratchet asked with studied calm.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have a clue, do you?"

"Uh, no."

"Then why didn't you say so?" he asked sweetly.

"Um, because I think you're going to be mad."

"Mad? Why would I be mad? I'm well past mad I'm into fury and heading out the other side into murderous rage. Now _tell_ me you have a solvent for this. Because I _know_ I've told you a hundred times not to go testing anything until you have a solvent, so of course you wouldn't _dare_ to've tested something without creating one. Right?"

He was bellowing by the end, almost afraid to stop speaking for fear of the negative answer that was almost certainly coming his way. But Wheeljack surprised him.

"Yes, of course I do. I do listen to you."

"Does it not work, then?" Ratchet demanded.

"No, it works. The adhesive is kinda slippery in my hands, but when I use the solvent it all comes off. Takes a bit of paint, too, but not a lot."

"Then you haven't got any mixed up, right?"

"No, no, I mixed up plenty. It's in my lab."

"Then lets go get it."

* * *

The first problem Ratchet discovered was movement. Even when they moved each leg in time it was easy to lose their balance. Which they did. Several times.

The second problem was the doorway to Wheeljack's lab. The inventor had locked it behind him as he often did, and now entering the code was awkward, but after several incorrect attempts - which would no doubt send Red Alert ino a paranoid frenzy when he returned and saw the security logs - they finally got the door open. Which was when the third problem became apparent.

"Why did you put it on the top shelf?" Ratchet fumed as they stood next to the shelving unit and saw the solvent sitting in a spray bottle just out of reach.

"There was a space there."

"Jack I'm going to _murder_ you!"

"I know." Wheeljack said miserably. "Maybe we can jump for it?"

"Jump?"

"Yeah, if we both jump together, maybe we can grab it."

"You mean maybe _I_ can grab it, since your hands are already occupied. Fine. On three. One, two, three!"

Which was when the fourth problem became apparent.

"Jack is your spike out!"

"Uh, yeah. Hey it's not my fault, it's distracting having your aft pressed up against me there."

Ratchet put his face in his hands. Great. Now _he_ had the distraction of knowing he couldn't do anything about the spike pressed up against him.

"This isn't going to work, we didn't even get close. We're going to have to ask for help."

"From who?"

"Swoop."

* * *

"Why you walk like that?" Grimlock demanded.

"It's a new game." Wheeljack explained. "Where's Swoop?"

"Him Swoop go camping with him Spike. When you stop playing game?"

"When the game's over." Ratchet snapped. "Grimlock, can you come and get something from Wheeljack's lab, please?"

"Us Dinobots not like Wheeljack's lab." Snarl muttered. "Things go boom."

"Me Slag not go in there."

"Me Sludge not go in there, too."

"Me Snarl _never_ go in there."

"Me Grimlock not afraid of Wheeljack's lab. But me not go in there. Last time, me Grimlock lost arm."

"I promise nothing will blow up this time."

"Really, Jack?" Ratchet asked drily.

"Well there's a couple of compounds on the workbench that might be unstable if they got knocked about but... hey!"

They tottered as Ratchet turned them towards the door, but he grabbed at the nearby wall to balance them.

"Never mind, Grimlock, we'll manage."

"Okay. Is new game fun?"

"Hilarious." Ratchet replied, deadpan.

"Maybe Dinobots play too."

* * *

_Two days later..._

"Ooh takin' advantage of the quiet, eh, mechs?" Jazz chuckled as he entered the rec room and found Ratchet snoozing on Wheeljack's lap, the inventor's hands wrapped tightly around him.

"Jazz!" Wheeljack jumped, though notably did not let go of his mate. "You're back early!"

"Prowler sent me on ahead. He got a bit upset when he called Teletran an' got Swoop instead of either of ya. I know the Dinos do their best, but really? In the command centre?"

"So you're the only one here?" Ratchet checked, strangely not attempting to free himself from his mate.

Very odd, Jazz thought. Ratchet was usually as open to public displays of affection as Prowl. Which meant not very open to it at all.

"Yeah. For now. Why?"

"Can you please go to Jack's lab and get the spray bottle off the top shelf above his work bench and bring it back here." Ratchet asked, sounding tense.

Jazz opened his mouth to answer, then suddenly clicked.

"You're _stuck_ like that? That glue you were workin' on, Jack? Primus, mech, you're lucky Hatchet's facin' away or you'd be so covered in dents by now I wouldn't recognise ya!"

"I know." Wheeljack said miserably.

"The solvent, Jazz?" Ratchet reminded him.

Jazz grinned, making sure he had secured some image captures for later enjoyment.

"Yeah, sure. I'll go get it."

* * *

_Thirty-eight minutes and two wash cycles in the rack later, in Wheeljack's quarters..._

Ratchet sighed in relief as he sank his spike deep into Wheeljack's valve and hugged his mate (then tested that he could still move his arms away before fully relaxing).

"Primus, you have _no idea_ how good that feels."

"So I'm forgiven then?" Wheeljack asked, kissing him. "Cause it was driving me nuts,too, holding you so close and not able to do anything."

"You know I can't stay angry at you, Jack. Still, there's one thing I don't understand."

"What's that?"

"Well your hands got stuck because you'd had the formula on them, and I can see how it got on your forearms, but why was your torso glued to mine too? You're usually not _that_ careless."

"Oh, yeah. Well... see I didn't think it was working out as an adhesive so I thought I'd try to find another use for it."

Ratchet groaned.

"You used it as a polish."

"Uh, no, not exactly." Wheeljack muttered, twisting his head about and clipping Ratchet on the way.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Um, what did we do with that spray bottle?"

Ratchet froze.

"Why?"

"Well we... uh... We might have a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Ratchet asked icily.

"Well it was so slippery, I did try it as a lubricant, too..."


End file.
